Free Cold Target by Patricia; Potter Page A

damage for damage’s sake.
    â€œAll the rooms are like this,” Morris said grimly. “It appears that someone doesn’t like you.”
    â€œI’ve concluded that,” she said, barely holding back tears. But she had learned never to cry in public. Tears were strictly private.
    She walked around in a daze, first through the living room, kitchen, and dining room on this floor, then through the two bedrooms and office on the second, careful not to touch anything. All had been trashed. Her computer was gone from her office. Her printer and copy machine had been smashed to the ground.
    Morris followed her soundlessly. She was aware of him standing at the door as she regarded what was left of the office.
    â€œWe need a list of anything that’s missing,” he said.
    Still speechless, she simply nodded as she looked at the shambles. All she wanted was a drink and bed. She couldn’t cope with any more tonight. No, she numbly corrected herself. This morning.
    â€œThe beds are pretty well torn up. I would suggest a hotel or another residence until you get those locks fixed. I would also recommend a security system.” He paused. “You have anywhere you can stay?”
    She could go to her parents’ home. But she wasn’t prepared to tell her father what happened tonight. He would tell her it was because of the type of people she had as clients and once more demand she join his corporate law firm. She simply wasn’t up to it. Not this morning. And Sarah’s apartment was too small for a guest.
    â€œA hotel,” she decided.
    â€œI’ll take you to one. Do you need to get any clothes?”
    She nodded. Then a thought struck her. “I want to call the night watchman at my office building. I want to make sure no one has tampered with my office computers.”
    She dialed the emergency number at the office. All her backup files had been in her home computer. There were records and memos in there that she wouldn’t want in the wrong hands. Addresses. Dear God that was the real disaster .
    Archie was the security guard who was usually on duty overnight. She knew him well, since she often worked late. He answered immediately.
    â€œThis is Meredith Rawson,” she said. “My home has just been ransacked. Will you check on my office?”
    â€œNo one here but the cleaning people, Ms. Rawson.”
    â€œJust go look for me,” she said.
    In a few moments—they seemed like hours—he was back. “Nothing disturbed there. Least not so I can see.”
    â€œKeep a special eye on it for me … please, Archie.”
    â€œYou bet, Ms. Rawson. You can depend on me.”
    â€œI know I can, Archie. Thanks.” She hung up the phone and turned to the detective. “I’ll have to warn some people. I had files on my hard drive that included addresses. Clients hiding from their spouses.”
    Morris waited patiently as she called four women, waking them up and warning them that their addresses might be compromised. She suggested they either keep someone with them or move to a different location.
    There were no protestations. They had all been through the kind of fear she felt tonight.
    When she finished, Morris looked at her steadily. “Could it be one of their husbands?”
    â€œI don’t know.”
    â€œWe’ll need your client list.”
    She hesitated. “I can’t give you that without their permission.”
    He looked exasperated. “At least a list of anyone who has threatened you. That wouldn’t be privileged.”
    She nodded. “I’ll get some clothes.”
    She entered her bedroom. It looked as if a tornado had hit it. The painting she loved had been slashed. The mattress was cut open and linens littered the floor. Drawers were pulled out, her clothes scattered.
    She swallowed hard. Despite the weariness that almost overwhelmed her, she yearned to start the cleanup process, to cleanse the